


hey little train, we are all jumping on

by procopias



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, F/M, Friends to Lovers, I'm Bad At Summaries, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Sansa, POV Theon, Physical Disability, TRAVEL PARTNERS, WW1, both are hurt and both are comforting, but europe is westeros, but some fluff I promise!, healing & rebuilding, i guess, though what is h/c anyway honestly, yes the iron islands are a socialist republic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 20:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19448935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procopias/pseuds/procopias
Summary: "It's good to see you alive, Sansa Stark."When the war is over, Theon Greyjoy goes after his best friend's sister in order to deal with some unfinished business.





	hey little train, we are all jumping on

**Author's Note:**

> When I started shipping these two (way too late, honestly) I knew I'd have to write a fic. And after seeing a post saying WW1/WW2 would be a perfect historical setting for a Theonsa story, my mind started working on it - until I asked, what if instead of Europe, I wrote a WW1 fic set in Westeros? From that, things kind of escalated as I dug into both our history and their geography (thanks, HD Westeros maps!), and imagined a similar conflict. It was as fun to plan as the Theonsa story itself. But a warning: I only drew inspiration from the actual war and countries; this isn't a 100% equivalent to the war, nor it is trying to be. The similarities are mostly related to the tech used, how society functioned and some of the dynamics of that conflict. The First World War was an extremely complex historical and political event, with a background and aftermath that I can't fully reproduce here.  
> I don't get into much detail on the war and geopolitics in this first chapter. I'll explain more things as the story advances, but for now, the only thing I don't actually address here and think it's best to let you know is that I used the names of castles in canon for cities.
> 
> And I'm not a native English speaker (actually, this is my first fic in English!), so sorry in advance and feel free to correct me if you find any mistakes.
> 
> The title is from O Children by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. The first chapter title is from Breezeblocks by alt-j.

i. the fear has gripped me, but here i go

"Still haven't found her, boy?"

Theon raised his eyes to the bartender who had just put a beer-pouring tankard in front of him. His frown met the man's weathered and now familiar face. _Could he possibly know?_

"What did you say?" The man raised one eyebrow.

"The war is over. Most of the soldiers are on their way home, or coming back home. But not you. This shithole of a city is not your home, and yet you came all the way down here after you left the war. I can't figure any reason for an ironborn soldier to be in King's Landing right now other than a girl. So, have you found her or not?" A close call, but not actually right. Theon smirked and decided to play along, though the fact that the man so easily noted he was from the Iron Islands bothered him a bit.

"Think that if I had, I would be drinking my arse down here and not fucking her, as if her cunt isn't the thing I miss the most in the whole world?"

The man snorted while spilling beer to another client - a soldier, Theon noticed, though this one wore his regimental like a mantle and was obviously praised for it. Theon wondered if he would get the same treatment while walking around Pyke in his uniform when he got back, and barked a bitter laugh at the idea. _At least it will be better than the looks I'm getting in King's Landing_. It was almost impossible to be at ease in this city - even if the war was over, it felt like he was still surrounded by enemies, and at any moment someone would come and attack him. Seeing men in the same clothes that weeks ago were used to identify who he should point his rifle at was disturbing at the very best, and increased his sense of paranoia by one hundred at the worst.

The young ironborn shook his head, trying to fill his mind with alcohol instead. All that liquor didn’t exactly calmed him down, but made it more difficult to remember things - a precious gift in his situation. It also softened the need to be in constant vigilance, and he didn’t jump in alert whenever someone approached him.

"She must have the sweetest cunt then. Though when young men like you drop everything because of a girl, there's usually more to it than just a good fuck." The bartender looked him in the eyes, a fatherly smile on his face. His guesses were mostly wrong, sure, but Theon still felt like the old man was reading into him more than it should be possible for someone whom he had known for just a few days and until that moment their only exchange of words had been "another beer", "that would be five stags", "have a good night" and variants.

Theon was there for a girl, but he had never tasted her cunt - or her anything, for that matter - and never believed she had been waiting for him. Sansa Stark didn't even know he existed.

And yet he had dropped everything (not that there was much to drop, anyway) to try and find her. Theon wasn't the kind of man who put duty above everything else. But after all the shit he did and went through, this seemed like the right thing to do. No, it _was_ the right thing to do. The only thing left. Robb's unsaid last wish. Theon owed it to him - honestly, he felt like he owed to Sansa, too, in some ways.

But time was running faster than his hobbling steps, and Theon was starting to fear that perhaps it was too late. As far as he knew, she could be dead, or just fled the city in the days after the armistice was announced.

He had been in King's Landing for almost a week, and no sign of the girl in any of the places he had searched. Apparently, Sansa Stark hadn't completed her studies, and her husband had died two or three years ago. Nobody in their old neighborhood seemed to know where she had gone after that - though Theon was quite sure that they wouldn't tell him anyway, as everyone there looked like they thought he was a beggar of some sort.

 _Maybe that's the problem_ , Theon thought as he finished his fourth drink. Maybe he had been searching in the wrong places. Upper sides and rich neighborhoods, that's where Robb said she was, but what's the chance? Maybe Flea Bottom would be a more accurate guess than Aegon's High Hill, who knows. She could even be right under his nose, all those nights he slept at the docks.

"You'll want a refill, sir?"

A woman was eyeing at him from behind the bar, wearing a threadbare apron and a tired look on her face. Theon frowned. Maybe he was just too wasted in the nights before to notice her, but he didn't remember that bar having a waitress.

“Yes, please.” His eyes followed her while she spilled more beer into his mug and put it back in front of him. Theon took a sip before he started talking. “Haven’t seen you around before, is this your first day?”

“No, I just took a few days off. Taking care of a friend. You don’t come here often, do you” The woman took a rag and started cleaning some unidentified liquid another client had shed on the counter.

“No. Landed in King’s Landing about a week ago. Guess we miss encountered then.”

“I suppose so.” The woman didn’t meet his eyes, and Theon watched as she resumed her chores. Looking at her now, there was no way he wouldn’t have noticed her presence there before, no matter how drunk or out of his senses. She was beautiful, with bright blue eyes and long, black hair tied in a side braid. 

“Allie, I forgot to ask you, how is Jeyne?” The old bartender asked, getting behind the bar again carrying empty cups from a now empty table. She turned to him and smiled kindly.

“She’s much better, Mr. Seaworth. Please say thanks to your wife. We wouldn’t have made it without her aid, and honestly, I thought no one would help us with that.”

“Marya is always glad to help. It’s a harsh world out there for you, aye?”

“I guess it is.” Mr. Seaworth gave her a gentle smile and tapped her on the shoulder before attending a new client. Allie was now washing the cups he had brought.

“What does your friend have?” She glared at Theon and continued her task.

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, they say it only stops being complicated when you die.” She didn’t answer. Probably her default treatment for drunk clients trying to forge a conversation. A few minutes passed before he talked again. “I’m looking for a girl.”

“Really? Is she from here?” Allie sounded uninterested, but Theon answered anyway.

“No. She’s from the North.” She raised her eyes briefly.

“An ironborn looking for a northerner girl in King’s Landing. Quite a story you can tell from that.” Mr. Seaworth commented, entering the chat while counting some money.

“How do you know I’m from the Islands?”

“I had my fair share of travels around this land. Would recognize this accent anywhere.”

But Allie seemed interested in the other subject.

“This Northerner girl, is she your betrothed or something?” She tried to seem nonchalant, still not looking at him in the face - but clearly eager to know more.

“It’s complicated.” Allie grinned.

“They said this Great War would make everything less complicated, but we’re all still tangled in one thing or another”, she said, and finally met his eyes for the first time, with a puzzling expression. 

And then it hit him.

Those eyes, that tone of blue staring right into him, mirrored one that Theon knew all too well - one that he was determined to never forget and at the same time cursed himself every night for keep remembering. Suddenly, Robb’s lifeless blue eyes wide open staring at him. Laughs and music and shouts inside the bar were replaced by utter silence, with deaf sounds circling him, and Theon stopped feeling his limbs. It was like his whole body was gone cut off his head - and still, he felt so overwhelmingly heavy, and his lungs were gone, and Theon could not breathe.

“Sir? Are you alright? _Sir?_ ” And now the whole world was shaking, colors around him, and blue, _that_ blue, and he could hear again, sounds, and a voice.

His vision was blurred, but he could descry the face of a girl, the girl who had just told him things were still complicated. Allie had grabbed his shaking arms, and kept calling for him.

Theon tried to focus on her, her features, her frowned eyebrows and worried look, her mouth moving and indiscernible sounds coming out of it. 

Hands were trembling when Theon finally caught his breath again and started to make sense of his surroundings. Allie was still in front of him, a hand on his left shoulder, and let out a small smile when he blinked. 

“You… Are you okay? Better now?” Theon nodded, avoiding the blue.

“Yes. Just a… I don’t know. Memory, I guess.” His voice was a bit locked, and Theon felt the tears running down his face. He wiped them with his sleeve, hoping it would stop.

“Oh. I see.” She lingered her hands on him before letting go and going back to her duties behind the bar. Theon sat there, uncomfortable, noticing she still shot some glances at him from time to time. To ignore it seemed to be the best option, so he decided to concentrate on his beer. 

He left the bar soon after, and went back to the place at the docks where he’d been sleeping. The whole way from the bar to the abandoned hut felt longer and more tiring than usual, with the pain in his bad leg sorer than it had been in the last weeks. 

The fall into that dirty mattress was both a bless and a curse, as Theon left this world and all of its sorrows in a matter of seconds only to enter the back of his mind and heart in his dreams - dreams of sinking ships and salty water in his eyes and throat, _what is dead may never die,_ the sounds of bombs and guns, explosions and fire, _what is dead may never die,_ doom and dread in the eyes of comrades and enemies, _what is dead may never die,_ and blue, blue eyes, everything covered in blue, a blue smile and blue tears. _What is dead may never die._

* * *

_She’s from the North,_ he had said. Even after that strange ironborn had left the bar, Sansa couldn’t shake his words off her head, and they lingered when she went back home and into her sleep until she woke up in the next morning, like a story in a book that both awed and disturbed her.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the man and his northerner lover. Working in a bar, she had seen many men looking and waiting for many girls, specially after the war was over and the soldiers started arriving at the city that was once their home. But never ironborn man, and never northerner girls - as far as Sansa could tell, at least. She asked herself if they would go to the North or the Iron Islands, or if they would stay in King’s Landing; with sorrow and hope, she thought of another northerner girl in that city, wondering if she had survived and what she had been doing during the war. A feeling of strange companionship for a person whom she had never met grew inside her. How did she end up there, so far from home? Was her story like Sansa’s?

It had been so long. For so long she had tried to forget her motherland, not knowing if she would ever go back, if she would ever be allowed to be Sansa Stark again. It had divided her, desperation for survival and the need to never lose herself. Being a proud northerner, like all the soldiers and the people back home, but also a foreigner, considered an enemy in a hostile country, having to pretend to be another person. Posters on the walls about how her people were evil, and deserved to be crushed; blaming them for all the bad things in the world. She had stopped going to the theatre, as all the films seemed to be filled with hate.

_I’m looking for a girl. She’s from the North._

It ignited a fire inside her. She thought of the box under her bed, the money she had been saving, the long lost plans of going away. The photographs she kept that as the years went by, and became only that - photographs, shadows of a distant past. Now suddenly she was on her knees, opening the box and looking at her family, her house, herself. The images had never looked so real.

As far as she knew, no one was looking for her, and no one would come and pick her up. But just like that other girl, Sansa could leave, and be from the North again. 

She laughed as tears came to her eyes and hope filled her heart.

It was time. Sansa would go back.

She would go back to Winterfell, to her _home,_ brothers and sister and mother and father. Sansa didn’t know where they were, _how_ they were, but she would find them. So much time spent in the dark, longing for news of her family that would never come, letters and notes that had stopped arriving since the war began. Her chest fell heavy at the thought, of the terrible fates so many faced in this conflict, and the fear she felt for them. Always expecting the worst. But now, it seemed certain that they had endured, just like her. Maybe not _certain_ , but for the first time, she dared to believe it with all her heart. Father. Mother. Arya. Bran. Rickon. Jon. Robb.

_Robb._

Her older brother had been fighting in the war since its beginning. Her mind wandered around him almost every night, trying not to think of the horrors he was facing. Was he going home? Perhaps they would meet halfway.

And then she flew back to the ironborn at the bar. The Socialist Republic of the Isles and Rivers had been an ally to the Northern Federation during the war. Perhaps there was a chance, even if the smallest, that he had fought side by side with Robb. Were they friends? Saved each other’s lives? Told each other about their families, the girls back home? _If he comes back to the bar tonight, I will ask him,_ she decided.

Sansa hadn’t felt such a stretch in her imagination since before the war. When her world fell apart, trying to think everything would get better seemed pointless and stupid, delusions of a silly young girl. It didn’t give her hope or comfort - with every newspaper, every talk of how things were outside King’s Landing, every bombing and attack, the expectations were crushed until they weren’t there anymore.

But now, peace. The notion of what came with peace hadn’t really hit her until now.

The city’s gates were open again.

Sansa knew part of her country would be in ruins, but still - _home._

The sound of the kettle announcing the water was boiled woke her up from visions of green fields and snow and forests. She quickly turned off the fire and poured the hot liquid into a cracked mug, already set for the morning tea.

It tasted sweeter than usual - as the sun that entered the room through the half-open window felt warmer, and her heart, lighter.

* * *

Theon spent more time than it was acceptable lying on the mattress after he woke up. But honestly, nothing about his situation there was acceptable in any way, so he just lingered, staring at the ceiling and trying to make some sense of what had happened last night. The hangover didn’t help much, but Theon was kind of used to it - not that it didn’t bother him, but he had already taken it as something that would come with the booze. It was often worth it, actually, as the headache drew his mind away from things that ached in a different way, as did the high that came with alcohol.

But this time, Theon wanted to remember.

The girl at the bar, the waitress that he had met just last night. Allie. There was something about her that disturbed him in the worst possible way, but also made him want to crawl back there and see her again. The eyes that brought comfort and an overwhelming guilt.

Robb’s eyes. Eyes Theon thought he would never see again, filled with life.

After that breakdown, he had avoided them, like some visual plague that would kill him. He suspected they could, actually - and it seemed a good way to end his life, looking at the eyes of a pretty girl.

But Theon knew in his guts that there was more to it, more than all those feelings he had both tried to bury and accepted as a burden he deserved to carry. His cloudy mind from last night wasn’t able to figure it out, but perhaps… perhaps if he sought her again, things would be clearer. Allie had been kind to him - one of the few people in King’s Landing that hadn’t treated him like scum after finding out he was from the Islands. 

_Maybe she could help me,_ Theon thought, a painful line of hope forcing its way into his head. If he hadn’t freaked out, maybe he could have told her that Sansa Stark was the girl’s name. That Sansa was Robb’s sister, and he had so much to tell her. He had decided to start looking for the girl in the lower parts of the city, after all. Working at a bar, Allie could know Sansa, even if by sight.

Theon finally got up, scratching his head, and reached for the bag he carried around with him all the time. It was filled with his few belongings, things he managed to bring back from the war - and dozens of unsent letters. 

Robb’s writing was all around it, telling his mother and father and sisters and brothers about how he was and what he had seen and what was happening and asking them how they were and what they were doing. Theon had read each and every one of those letters after he picked them up from Robb’s things, feeling that somehow it would make him feel a little better, like he was making his friend stay around for a bit longer - but it only got worse. All those words and questions and answers showed him how much Robb had left behind. People he loved and cared for, people who would miss him. They were waiting for him at home, and wondered when would he go back. It made Theon want to scream, _this is Robb Stark! He is twenty-three years old! He doesn’t deserve to die! Please, don’t let him die!_

He grabbed one of those addressed to Sansa. It was the last Robb had written, more worried and hopeless than the others, but still affectionate. _Sans,_ his friend called her. _Does she have a nickname for him, too?_ Theon wondered.

His thoughts then wandered back to _his_ home. Pyke and the Iron Islands. He had been homesick since he’d left, but didn’t know if any comrade there would be waiting for him. Theon had a family, and a big one for that matter, but shattered in more ways than one. Robb had encouraged him to write to his sister and uncle, but the few letters were either unanswered or written when they stopped being able to send anything. If Theon had died, it would be all quiet on the southern front.

Instead, Robb did.

* * *

According to her plans, Sansa would depart in a week, more or less. She would tell Davos she was quitting, but could find him a replacement in no time. He had been so kind to her, more than she would expect from any man she worked for in that city. She was still deciding if it was better to leave by boat - maybe one that would be sailing directly to White Harbor, closer to Winterfell - or train, getting on board at the station located not far from King’s Landing. She would have to look how much it would cost for her to get to the North. She had saved enough money in the last few years, but you never know, right? And there was the Jeyne issue, which weighed on her conscience. Her friend needed her support in that moment, at least for a few more days. Sansa would have to stay until she had recovered. Maybe they could go together? No, Jeyne wouldn’t agree to leave the city without her father, who still hadn't come back. And there were Beth and Ros, yes, they were staying there. Jeyne would be in good hands. Mrs. Seaworth could keep an eye on her, too. And her son, Maric, seemed very interested in Jeyne. Perhaps…

Sansa had left for work with her belongings scattered on the floor of her small apartment, still deciding what she was going to take with her. Clothes. A few tokens and gifts, things she could sell on the way, if needed. She didn’t want to leave her books behind, no.

The girl arrived at The Onion Knight on time, thinking of how would she carry so much. She had her trunk, and maybe could get a trolley and some boxes. After a quick greeting to Davos, Sansa started her chores, her mind working and wandering while she swept the floor and cleaned the tables. More and more clients filled the bar as the hours passed, and even as she performed her duties like always, her head went back to the pictures in the box and the North and Winterfell and her family. At first, high expectations seemed like a bad - if not _dangerous_ \- idea, but she couldn’t contain herself. 

And the ironborn boy. If he ever came back to that bar, she would have to ask him about Robb. Sometimes Sansa would look at the door, expecting him to walk in, hobbling. She would have to ask him his name, of course. Maybe tell him hers, her real name. She remembered looking at the mirror earlier and seeing the auburn hair roots growing again, contrasting with the black dye. For the first time since she started hiding and became Alayne Stone, it didn’t bothered her.

She would be Sansa Stark again.

* * *

Allie was behind the bar when Theon arrived, serving some clients with ale. She seemed happier than he remembered her being last night, emanating a warm glow. Theon took a deep breath and tried to focus on not losing control. _She could have the answer._ There was something there beside the memory-inducing look. _Don’t panic. Just ask her a few questions._

He found a seat at the counter, looking down until the woman noticed his presence and went straight to him with a smile, like she’d never been so glad to see a dirty face and unkept beard in her life.

“A beer, sir?” Theon nodded, not looking her in the eyes. “I never asked your name, did I?” She said, landing the mug before him.

“Theon. Theon Greyjoy.” He took a sip of the liquid, trying to keep in mind that he should be sober for the conversation he was about to have. “And you’re Allie.”

“Alayne Stone. But Allie’s fine.” Allie grinned, but grew it to a more serious face. “Look, Theon, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

He narrowed his eyes. This was unexpected.

“Where did you serve?”

Where was she going with this?

“Southern front. Southeast of the Trident.” Alayne Stone bit her lower lip. He could see her twisting the rag in her hands.

“And did you fight along northerner troops?”

“Yes, the Winter Army was fighting there, too. Speaking of that-” _Now is the time._

“Did you meet a northerner soldier called Robb Stark?” Allie interrupted him, an urgency in her voice.

Theon spilled his beer, eyes wide open with shock. He met her face. Blue eyes. 

And he knew.

“Yes” Theon answered, starstruck at the realization. “A very good friend of mine, actually.” He tried to choose his words carefully. If this girl was Robb’s younger sister, and Theon was growing surer that she was as the moments passed, he couldn’t scare her away.

Allie gulped, her face looking like she had a thousand things to say and none at the same time.

“The girl I’m looking for is his sister, Sansa Stark. There were some letters… he wanted me to deliver them. Do you know where I could find her?” Allie- _Sansa_ ’s face suddenly became very pale, and her hands started shaking.

“Meet me outside the bar after my shift is over. Please.” Theon nodded again, and Sansa disappeared. She didn’t talked to him for the rest of the night, throwing him a nervous look from time to time. Hours felt like days as he waited, trying to never lose sight of her. Everything around him was a blur, except for the girl he had been searching for what it felt like a lifetime. It was like they were the only people in the whole world - which was kind of true, at least in his head. Theon couldn’t even bring himself to finish his beer, as if he was drunk with the stupor Sansa had thrown him in.

The night was still loud when she met him outside, wearing a worn out trench coat.

“Come with me”, Sansa said, and silently guided him through the streets.

* * *

None of them said a word until Sansa closed the door behind her, still trying to process the small piece of information the man called Theon Greyjoy had given her.

He had followed her closely on their way to the small building she lived in. In another situation, Sansa would be worried someone could see her coming home with a man, but her mind was too full of other concerns to care about what would her landlady think. She had barely registered what was happening around them while they walked. 

Theon was staring at her, looking amazed and very sad at the same time.

“My brother is dead.” It was the first thing she said, and felt tears coming.

“Yes.” Theon Greyjoy’s voice sounded broken when he answered.

“And- and he sent you here to- to deliver letters or-”

“He didn’t send me. I kept them after he died, and when the war ended I decided to-”

“Are they inside your… your..?” Sansa pointed at the bag hanging on his shoulder.

Theon answered taking something out of the bag. Papers, folded and tied together with a string. He handed them to her, and with quivering hands, she unfolded the one on top and started reading it.

By the time she got to _I hope we’ll meet again someday, when we’re both home again. I’ll try my best. Promise. All the love in the world, your brother Robb,_ she had slided down and was now sitting on the floor. Her whole body was shaking, tears still falling and muffled sounds coming out of her throat. Theon fell onto his knees before her, and suddenly pulled Sansa to a rough embrace. He smelled like sweat and salt and dirt and smoke. She closed her eyes and returned the hug, weakly holding onto him.

“It’s good to see you alive, Sansa Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> For that last embrace, I drew inspiration from that scene in 6x01 where they're hiding under a tree.  
> I don't have a good record of finishing multi-chapter fics, but hope you'll stay around. I'm really excited about this, and will try to update as soon as possible now that I have more free time (yay unemployment!). Please review!


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